About a calendar month agone we paid off one of our cars.  This tends to take usa a while to do, so we were excited to finally own this car outright. No more monthly payments, a piffling bit of breathing room.  Chris and I both breathed sighs of relief at God's provision of a bit of extra money to spend in other places.

We were all smiles about it until the day I bought the watermelon.  Well, actually, we were nevertheless smiling until two days after the purchase.  That's when we noticed the stench.  In the motorcar.  The one we'd just received the championship for in the mail.

My daughter and I headed out to the driveway prepared to pick up the friends in our morning carpool to schoolhouse.  Everything almost this Wednesday morning time was clipping along fine, until Sarah Kate opened the car door.  Out came the worst smell I call back I've ever smelled.   No other odor compares … information technology was just suffocating.

Suddenly, I remembered the melon that I'd bought as a sweet care for for my family unit. I remembered  noticing it in the back seat floorboard  on Monday (in case you didn't notice, this was Wed morning).  I hadn't placed the watermelon in the floorboard. I'd placed information technology in the cargo expanse that I had enlarged by folding down the back row of seats.  Apparently, on the drive from Sam's to our house, it had fallen..  While unloading the other groceries, I remember making a mental note to come back and get it.  Needless to say, I quickly forgot and there it still sat.

What I hadn't realized was that it had busted open when it fell.  Thus the odour: rotting watermelon with a solar day and a one-half of summer rut added in.

We rolled down all the windows and turned the AC on full blast in an attempt to clear the air before we got to the Moore'southward house.  I apologized to the girls we were picking up for this less-than-welcoming scent, and they gagged as they entered.  All four of them.  It was a lot of gagging.

1 of the girls offered her family's trash can for disposal of the rotten fruit.  I took her up on it, simply was disappointed when I returned to the car and plant its fragrance yet lingering.  The machine actually smelled just as bad as it had before I hauled away the watermelon.

Information technology was and so bad, in fact, that our children began to refuse to ride in it.  Ella, our 10 twelvemonth old, starting having gagging reactions when she would begin to go close to the car. The girls I drove to schoolhouse requested air fresheners.  I think they probably held their jiff.

I began to gag when I remembered that nosotros now owned this car, this very stinky car.  This motorcar that no 1 in the family wanted to come up well-nigh anymore.

Something  had to be done.  Although we were prepare to kiss information technology and its atrocious odor skillful-bye, I couldn't envision trying to sell this smelly vehicle. Who else would want to drive a compost bin on wheels?  Nosotros were clearly stuck with this machine.

Then I have spent the concluding week – yes, seven days – trying to rid our car of this olfactory property.  I have used cleaning wipes, actress force carpeting odor eliminator powder, an over-priced spray for "tough odors," some other carpet deodorizing pulverisation that touted a delightful floral smell (so it smelled like rotten watermelon in a garden).  I've sprayed lots of Febreze  … the one that purports to eliminate even the most stubborn smells. I've kept the windows downward to allow fresh air in and the bad smell out every gamble I've had.  I even went to AutoBell and paid them $54 to shampoo the carpets.  My passengers still complained.  I finally resorted to stuffing Hawaiian breeze air fresheners under the seats.

A few days into this state of affairs, I had an epiphany of sorts –  I am like this watermelon.  There are times when others experience my words and my presence as a fragrant offering.  These are the times that my words bring blessings and my presence offers comfort. The times when the fruit of my lips is tasty and sweet.

Then there are the days that I am a rotten melon.  The days that unkind words, (the Bible calls them curses), menstruum readily from my lips.  The moments when my temper is short, and my conclusion to take my own way long-lasting.  The times when the overflow of my heart is toxic to those around me.  Mayhap even to the point that they want to gag when they see me side by side.

The freshness or the foulness of my fruit is adamant by the spirit I'chiliad listening to in the moment.  Information technology is indication of whether I'm living according to my sinful and self-centered flesh or to the Holy Spirit's call to receive grace and extend love.

My allegiance can change on a dime.  One minute I may be looking out for the needs of others and the next I am out to brand myself happy.  One moment yous may find me believing God's trustworthy words about my value and the adjacent you may discover me fretting over my reflection in the mirror. On some occasions, I am quick to forgive and to enquire for forgiveness and on many others I am judgmental and dug in.

Another similarity is the length of time the smell lingers … whether it is the smell of Christ or the spirit of expiry.  Only like my family experienced in the Osborn Watermelon Fiasco, the stench of my poisonous words doesn't easily fade. Neither does the biting taste of my pride. Nor the divisive power of my unforgiveness.  Non even the bruises on my soul from falling downwardly in worship to one of my idols … again.

No, the harm I practice to others when I live as if I'thousand the king of my kingdom stays in the air a good long while. The sting of my words, the cutting of my tone, the burns inflicted past my icy withdrawal when I'one thousand hurt … these are all aromas of death and when I default to them you could say that I stink at loving well. Instead of offering life to those God gave me to treat, I'm wounding the spirit of my loved ones each time I make the decision to live according to my sinful nature.

But I wasn't meant to alive this way.  I was created in God'due south image and am designed to bring LIFE to those around me. I am called to resist evil (not participate with it) and to practise good (not harm).  I am intended to exist a human communicator of God's love to people.

This requires that I alive thoughtfully and deliberately, avoiding impulsive reactions whenever I maybe can.  It ways that I must spend more time on my knees (begging for humility and mercy) than with my anxiety stuck in the muck and the mire of my ain agenda.

It means that I need prayers.  My prayers for myself and your prayers on my behalf.  It means that I need Jesus to call His Holy Spirit to bring me direction and conviction.  It means that I must follow His lead if I am to be transformed into His likeness the way I say I want to be.

It ways that I must remember daily the moral of this story.  People, like watermelons, create smelly situations when they fall.  And both require something bigger than themselves to exercise the clean-up.

Wendy Osborn is married to Chris, and their 3 daughters are her favorite girls in the world. She is in the process of launching a non-profit ministry called Fixing Our Optics, dedicated to nurturing the souls of women with the love of Jesus every bit they walk through painful life circumstances. All services are offered free of accuse.